


Boom

by corvidae9



Series: The Great Galactic Baby Boom of 2187 [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 17:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: It’s a recognized fact that birth rates skyrocket following wartime; it stands to reason galactic wars would have a similar, if not magnified effect. Shepard is pretty sure she doesn’t need to be in on this trend, but she did tell Garrus shemightbe interested... and the entire damn sector seems accidentally hellbent on trying to convince her it’s time. (A collection of scattered tales from the Great Galactic Baby Boom of 2187)





	1. The Setup: December, 2186

**Author's Note:**

> I struggle mightily with the idea of the badass Shepard immediately retiring and reproducing (or adopting) post-Reaper-Invasion, and I spend a lot of time thinking about all of the things that would actually happen, not only to Shepard and Garrus, but her friends and colleagues. Most of those ruminations are far more serious and weighty than this collection of ridiculous Shakarian vignettes. Fair warning: The Payoff is 95% shmoop. :) Also, I took liberties with the ME3 ending by assuming that the Normandy did not indeed evacuate Earth post-destroy ending because that actually makes sense.

Shepard could hear it far away, a voice. The one voice she really wanted to hear right now. Her head was stuffed full of rocks and there seemed to be a fuse attached somewhere at the base of her throat where it could radiate through all of her pain pathways most successfully.

“Shepard.”

She tried to answer, but her head. The rocks. The C4.

“Shepard, you can’t leave me now.”

She wanted to tell Garrus that she didn’t want to; that there was nowhere else she’d rather be. That she was glad this wasn’t a bar. All she could do was breathe, but even that was going poorly. Shepard wiggled the fingers on her left hand.

“Good job, Sweetheart, stay with me,” he said. “You had orders.” She caught an edge of panic in his subharmonics, and knew it was just as bad as it felt.

Another voice made a sound that was caught between laughing and crying. A lower voice choked out, “‘Sweetheart’?” in a weak attempt at humor. 

Shepard blinked her eyes open, even though her eyelids fucking hurt, and that was a new one. A low murmur of voices was drowned out by his voice again. She tried to tell Vega to fuck off, but her voice wasn’t working properly.

“Okay, okay, there she is. Shepard look at me.” She blinked. She tried. So much blue and gray. A good deal of omnitool orange.

“She’s alive!” shouted a high voice she knew was coming behind a mask, somewhere off to the left. A murmur. A cheer. Shepard wasn’t all that sure this was what ‘alive’ felt like, but it was better than the alternative.

“Wh--” she finally managed to croak. Her lungs were on fire as though she’d been sprinting for days. She tried again, barely audible. “Did it work?”

“Lit ‘em up like you wouldn’t believe,” he said and she could hear a smile. “You are the undisputed queen of Reaper shooters.”

“Her spine and cranium appear to be intact, Garrus. Let’s get her into the medbay.”

Shepard knew that voice, too. Chakwas; she who appreciated brandy. This was not going to be as pleasant. She felt a cool spread of what had to have been another huge dose of medigel begin to creep out from her chest.

Garrus leaned in and whispered, “Sorry, Shepard.” She didn’t have time to figure out what for by the time he had slipped his arms under her back and knees and heaved her up. Then she knew.

It hurt like a godforsaken bitch, with pain she couldn’t even vocalize radiating through her torso and abdomen. All she could do was groan pathetically as Garrus adjusted her against his chest. He carried her to the Normandy like that, trailed by a small army of crunching boots and murmurs.

“Here’s the thing,” he said quietly to her, keeping up a steady stream of one-sided conversation. “I meant that mess about retiring somewhere warm and making babies. I don’t ever want to see you this near death again. Not until we’re so fucking old our wrinkles have been declared national monuments and we’re surrounded by great-great-grandchildren. Understand?”

Shepard coughed and tried to focus on him, and made sounds that resembled, “Duly noted.” She was just so tired.

“Turians, humans, krogans; hell, I’d raise salarians with you. In a few years when the not-shooting starts getting dull, of course.” The world became brighter and she turned her face towards Garrus’ armor, blinking hard. “How many Shepard-Vakarian offspring do you think the world could handle? Three? Five? Ten?”

“Vakarian, now!” shouted Chakwas, but he hadn’t needed to be told. He was already setting Shepard down onto the table in what had to be the medbay. Shepard could hear the distinct clatter of armor bits hitting the deck, and the beeping and whirring of machines set to try and save her from herself again. Garrus was working on carefully peeling her chestplate from from her body, making faces that should have worried her. Instead, she felt at peace; as though she had done what she came to do; as though whatever happened next was what needed to happen. As though she’d been pumped full of calming medigel.

“Definitely ten,” she said; voice hoarse and broken, yet determined. Garrus paused and looked down at her, mandibles flicking. She could see a mangled bit of armor in his hand and connected that it had been on her body, and the situation made a lot more sense.

“It’s a deal,” he said. His gaze slid away and then back. “I’ll collect when I see you on the other side of this.”

Shepard tried to agree, but her eyes rolled up into her head and she was out again.


	2. October, 2187

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara has a problem.

The first of those early comm calls had come unexpectedly in the wee hours of a night, not even a year out from the Reaper invasion of Earth. Shepard had extracted herself from a tangle of blankets, Garrus’ limbs and a stray pillow to reach for her omnitool and poke at it. All she could see was that it was an incoming transmission from Liara coded to override any ‘do not disturb’ settings, and she put it through immediately. 

“Shepard,” Liara said, her lovely features lit only by her bank of monitors. “I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t disturb you.” Her eyes were shadowed and she looked unhappy, even through the connection. 

“Liara, what’s wrong? Are you alright? I can be there in ten minutes.” Shepard was already scrambling out of bed and rifling through a drawer for clothes suited to flattening a squad of anything threatening Liara. “Fuck it. Five,” she added as she pulled on fatigue bottoms and found a shirt. Speed laws were made to be broken and their modest apartment on the Citadel wasn’t that far from hers. “Garrus!” she hissed loudly.

“No!” cried Liara, holding up her hands. “It’s not like that! I’m safe!” Garrus was also scrambling out of bed and rushing around Shepard to peer into the virtual screen. Old habits died hard.

“What’s going on? Who are we shooting?” he said, rubbing at his eyes with one hand while dropping the other on Shepard’s shoulder. “Liara, everything alright?”

“No,” said Shepard. “We need to--”

“Yes!” cried Liara, covering her face in what looked like... embarrassment? “Yes, I’m alright.” she sighed, then looked up again. “At least, no one needs to be shot. I just need to borrow Shepard for a while.”

Shepard and Garrus exchanged a look. 

“No, I’m not under duress,” said Liara. “I’m serious. I just need to talk to-- Goddess, this was such a bad idea. I should have waited until morning.”

“Liara,” said Shepard. “Whatever it is, I’m here. I’ll be there in ten.”

The asari tilted her head, looking for a moment like the young scientist they’d met all those years ago, as opposed to her current occupation as a hard-edged Shadow Broker. 

“Thank you, Shepard.” Liara cut the connection.

“That’s not normal,” Garrus said. 

“Not at all,” Shepard said. “I’m going over there.”

“Do you want me to come?” he asked, casually nuzzling her temple. “Just in case she really is being held hostage?”

Shepard laughed, but hesitated. It wasn’t beyond the realm of reason that it could be some kind of trap. They hadn’t been in actual mortal danger since the Reapers, but that didn’t mean it was never going to happen again. Still.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she said, turning into the gesture. “I’ll take something lethal with me, just in case.” She reached up and touched his face. “Go back to sleep.”

“Little to no chance of that until I know for a fact that you two are safe. Let me at least drive you over”

Shepard sighed, knowing that was exactly what would happen. “Done, but apparently you’re not invited. Let’s go.”

###

“Shepard, I’m sorry,” said Liara after she had assured them that she was safe and had sent Garrus on his way.

“Stop apologizing, Liara, I swear.” Shepard settled onto one side of Liara’s L-shaped couch with the mug of tea Liara had set out for her. Liara settled into the corner, cross-legged, elbows on her knees. “It was important enough, so talk.”

“I’m pregnant,” said Liara with no further preamble, and Shepard had to work hard not to spit out her first mouthful of tea.

“Buh?” Shepard managed.

“I know!” Liara covered her face again. “It was so… stupid.”

Shepard tilted her head at Liara. “The, uh. Way I understand it is that asari don’t have… _accidents_?”

“Yes,” admitted Liara. “That’s definitely true.”

“So.”

“I--” Liara stopped and held a hand over her mouth. For a moment, Shepard thought she was about to cry, but it became evident that she was actually in the process of being sick. Liara jumped up and ran off, only to return a few minutes later. “I’m sor--” she stopped the apology much to Shepard’s approval and tried to smile as she sat again. “Humans call it ‘morning sickness’; Asari experience a similar form of night disturbances. The pervasive joke is that it prepares you for sleepless nights. It’s… not a very funny joke.”

“It doesn’t sound like it, no,” Shepard said. She could wait patiently for the story. Liara looked down at her hands. 

“I had an… encounter. With Javik.”

Shepard’s eyebrows shot as far up as they could go.

“I know!” Liara interrupted herself. “I know. I just. I thought that--” she sighed again “-- goddess. I am. So stupid.”

Shepard rocked forward onto her knees and reached out far enough to flick Liara hard on the forehead. “Listen, I’m terrible at things I can’t shoot or kick the snot out of, but I know you’re not stupid, and I’m not judging you. So talk, or don’t. But cut that shit out.”

Liara winced and rubbed her head, but she huffed a laugh anyway. “Ok. Alright.” She took a breath. “I. You know this part. I’ve been harassing Javik constantly for information; for anything he would share, and somehow we ended up agreeing to co-author a book. But. Sometime during our work together… the idea occurred to me that I wanted so badly to have a daughter with Prothean traits. It didn’t help that everyone around seems to be intent on reproducing at the moment. Have you noticed?”

“It’s a thing,” Shepard agreed. “People are happy to be alive, weirdly enough.”

“Thanks to you,” Liara said. “Did you know that “Shepard” is the most popular name for infant girls and boys this year? Of all species?”

“Ugh,” Shepard groaned, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Let’s not. Keep talking.” Liara pressed her lips together. 

“I can see now that I might have been… _overbearing_ about asking Javik for a meld; at first it was just to see into his memories, ostensibly to work more effectively on the research, but then I realized I didn’t even have to tell him what I had in mind…” Liara twisted her hands together. “Two months ago, he finally agreed. And we did. And I… borrowed his best traits and initiated this pregnancy… and he figured it out right away.”

Shepard leaned in, eyes narrowed. “Please tell me he was respectful and I don’t have to cause his race to go extinct again.”

“Sort of,” Liara said. “In that he suggested we… _meld_ in more traditional ways so that he could at least get something out of it himself.”

“So, I _do_ have to kill him,” said Shepard.

“No! Not at all,” Liara said, looking embarrassed all over again. “It was… not bad. Entertaining even. Possibly even… great. Something I may have decided to repeat. Repeatedly.”

Shepard blinked. “...Liara are you trying to tell me that you are currently sleeping with --or holy shit how the fuck-- in a relationship with Javik?”

“Yes. No. Something like that,” said Liara. “There’s nothing serious. It’s just sex for the most part.”

“And everything is so great that you called me in the middle of the night to gloat about it?” 

_That_ was when Liara burst into tears, and Shepard felt like a bastard and a half. 

“Oh, crap. Now _I’m_ sorry,” Shepard said, setting her mug down and scooting over to sit next to Liara, who threw her arms around Shepard. Shepard patted her awkwardly, unsure of what to do, or what the problem even might be.

“No, you’re right. It’s all pear-shaped,” said Liara. “I always wanted someone to be close to; to share my life. Or at least parts of it. Eventually. Javik is _not_ that person.” She sniffed a teary laugh. “Probably. But I’m swimming in hormones at the moment and I’ve been vomiting instead of sleeping for days now and I don’t know if I did the right thing. In any of it.”

“If you don’t know, Liara, I sure as hell don’t,” Shepard said with a sigh. “But I’d say that you’re probably alright. For as long as I’ve known you, you either make really good decisions, or you turn terrible decisions into fucking spectacular ones. So either way, you keep being you, and you’ll be fine. And if you need this Prothean taken out, either I can make him disappear, or I happen to know a guy who can make him wish I had.” 

Shepard wasn’t sure how much that was going to help, but it was the best she had. If Liara had wanted someone more comforting, she probably would have called Tali or someone equally emotionally un-stunted, after all.

After a long pause, Liara murmured, “Thanks, Shepard.”

“I’m happy to be unhelpful any time. Just-- do me a favor.”

“Of course.”

“Please don’t name this baby ‘Shepard’.”

“Damn,” Liara breathed, then laughed, sniffed, and relaxed into Shepard’s shoulder. “I guess I’ll come up with something.”


	3. February, 2188

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News from Palaven.

Garrus cheered from where he sat at his terminal in the improvised office area, loudly enough to cause Shepard to look up from the datapad in her lap that she was trying not to break in half from sheer annoyance at the rest of the Council.

“Did we win?” she asked with a smirk.

“Yes! Or at least, Solana did,” he said with a huge turian grin, subharmonics fairly chirping with joy. “I’m going to be an uncle!” he pointed to her. “And that makes you an aunt.”

Shepard’s eyebrows shot up. “Wasn’t she--”

“On a wildly dangerous final clean-up of Palaven’s most convoluted and previously overcrowded cities?” Garrus asked disingenuously, standing and stretching, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little when he reached the top. “Why yes, Shepard, she was. And then she dragged some nitwit out of a collapsing building and fell in love with him.” Garrus crossed the room to her, rubbing his hands together. “So we’ve also got a brother-in-law to menace as soon as we can get back there, too.”

She couldn’t help grinning back at him. He was just so...excited. It was wildly endearing.

“I will menace anyone you need me to,” she said, holding her arms up to him. “Hell, we can menace him long distance from here if you want, and then just keep menacing until he’s all menaced out and in line.”

Rather than just leaning in, he circled his arms around her, outright lifted her off of the couch and into the air, spinning her in a half-circle before depositing her on the ground flush against him. “That’s what I love about you, Shepard. Your propensity for casual violence is unbearably sexy.”

“Ass,” she said, laughing and holding on tight. 

“Of course, I will never live down that the eldest did not provide the first grandchild,” he said with a heavy sigh. Shepard stiffened ever so slightly in his arms. “That wasn’t pressure, Shepard,” he said, broadcasting reassurance. “That was just me thinking out loud about my father.” 

“I know,” she said, forcing herself to relax. “I get it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at her face, trying to make sure she was serious; trying to make sure he hadn’t overstepped. After all this time, he still worried. Shepard sighed. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I do. It’s good. I’m happy for them.”

“But?” he said with the tiniest shake, as though trying to rattle the truth loose.

“But. Just. Not yet.”

“I’ve told you.” He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. “I’m grateful enough to have you here, alive and in one piece, and all mine.”

“I can agree with that,” she said with a tiny smile, but if Shepard was going to be honest with herself, it still stung. She wanted to give him all of the things he wanted out of life; she just didn’t know how. Not while she was still battling night terrors and overseeing wreckage disposal and trying to coordinate engineers and techs to get people home before they starved.

“So. Stop making faces like you don’t,” said Garrus, rubbing her back in slow circles. At least this was a conversation she could deflect.

“So,” she echoed, running her foot along the outside of his calf. “Make me.”


	4. August, 2188

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another sleep disturbance.

Shepard’s omnitool pinged an overridden call from Williams; a quick check of the time indicated it was somewhere in the middle of the night. Again.

“Let me guess. You’re pregnant, too?” Shepard growled into the comm by way of greeting. “Because congrats, but if you’re not actively in labor or on fire, I’m going back to sleep and we can do this in the morning.”

“Shepard, what? No. Jesus. Get your head in the game. There’s an incident at the docks; I think you should see it ASAP. Bring Vakarian-- there might be trouble and C-Sec is probably about to raise him anyway.”

“Oh, fuck. Sorry,” Shepard said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and reaching out to more fully rouse Garrus, who was already stirring. ”Got it. Be there in fifteen.”

“Again?” muttered Garrus, rolling fluidly onto his feet and shaking himself off. 

“Wait--” Williams said belatedly, “-- _too?_ What the hell? Why wasn’t I informed?” 

“Nooo. I’m not-- it’s a long story,” Shepard locked eyes with Garrus over the bed, who was tilting his head at her. “We’re on the way, and we’ll be armed.” He nodded and set to acquiring gear.

“Shepard,” Williams said warningly. “I will have time.”

“No one has time for this one, Ash. Trust me. On my way.” Shepard cut the comm. 

“Something on your mind, Shepard?” said Garrus as he began strapping his armor on.

“Explosions. Docks. C-Sec and Spectres expected on deck. Isn’t that enough?”

“...Apparently not?” he ventured as she poked testily at her closet. 

“Leave it,” she said, pulling a shirt over her head. 

“Shepard,” he rumbled.

“The call came in,” she counted off on her fingers, standing hipshot in underpants and said shirt. “I thought of Liara. I saw it was Williams. I automatically assumed something really damn stupid. And now I have to explain it to Williams, because she’s like a dog with a bone and she is not going to let it go.” It sounded a lot more ridiculous out loud, and Garrus was making a face that meant he thought the same thing. She set her jaw and nodded slowly. “And I sound like a maniac.”

“A very attractive maniac who was just woken from a dead sleep, let’s be fair,” he said, crossing his arms and making a point to obviously ogle her hips. “Otherwise, it sounds totally reasonable.”

Shepard threw a shoe (which he ducked) and resumed pulling clothes on. “That’s all anyone’s talking about anymore. It’s kind of giving me the creeps. It’s like--” she brushed past Garrus to acquire her N7 armor, “-- we haven’t finished grieving for millions of people and we’re already trying to repopulate the galaxy.” Five magnetic snaps. A tightened strap. She sighed. “I get it. We need good news. People are hanging on tight to one another. But it’s still weird.” 

From where he was checking his weapons and attaching them to their usual locations on his own armor, Garrus said, “I like the sound of good news.” He was trying to sound casual, but she knew better. 

“I know.” She maglocked her Carnifex onto her hip with a loud snap. “I don’t… hate it. It just seems too soon.” Garrus tilted his head at her with an unspoken question.

“I don’t know when it got less terrifying,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe it’s Liara’s spawn. Maybe it’s that we’re not regularly being shot at.” 

“Good enough,” he said with a nod and what was almost a smile, and Shepard was amazed all over again at his patience for her reticence. Her experience with men --hell, people in general-- didn’t lead her to believe this was even halfway normal. Apparently her luck did not indeed run out.

“Let’s go kick someone’s ass,” she said, purposefully bumping into him with the _clack_ of armor on armor. “First one to the car gets to drive.”


	5. February 2189

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An announcement.

Shepard sat at the dining table in Williams’ tiny apartment and dealt for Skyllian Five. Williams shot a dark look at the pile of cards in front of her.

“Do we do this for fun? I forget,” she grumbled, picking up her cards one by one. 

“Apparently, yes?” Liara said, examining her cards with a sigh over the sleeping miniature of herself, tucked in a wrap close to her chest. “Shepard why do you do this to us? I thought you cared.”

“All I do is shuffle,” said Shepard with a shrug while impassively examining her own hand and considering how best to crush her best friends.

“Right,” said Tali, ankles crossed under the table. “All you do is shuffle, and we suffer. Has anyone checked her deck?”

“I bet I could tell you who’s calibrated it lately,” Williams deadpanned. Shepard smirked in her direction. 

“Now that you mention it--”

“Ladies! The party has arrived!” Vega shoved through the front door, but he was not alone. He was holding a large bottle in each hand, lofted well overhead. Jack trailed behind him, as did Garrus; Shepard wasn’t expecting to see him tonight, but she wasn’t sorry for it; she just kicked out the seat next to her with a smile and waited for the explanation. 

“Alright, I’ll bite,” said Williams. “Why are you here, and what are we celebrating?”

Jack parked her ass directly on the table next to Williams and leered. “Promise?” 

Williams flicked an annoyed glance at her. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, too?”

“Cheerleader’s busy. Meathead over here called me up and promised booze,” Jack clapped her vaguely glowing hands together. “I’ve had my share of straight and narrow for the week.”

Garrus worked his way around the table and sat in the chair Shepard had kicked out for him, leaned in and kissed her long enough that Jack had time to complain about it. Shepard flashed her a rude gesture and ignored it.

“Sorry for busting in on your game,” he murmured. “Vega was too excited to turn down.” Shepard arched an eyebrow.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Vega began as he passed a full bottle to Jack, “Ladies and gentle _man_ , I am--”

“He convinced his girlfriend to marry his dumb ass,” Jack cut in, clanking her newly opened bottle of booze against the one in his hand. “Congrats, fucker. Literally.”

Vega swore, but he was all smiles. Tali squealed a little bit, Shepard covered her eyes and shook her head, Garrus predictably cheered and applauded, and Liara grinned madly while holding her hand over little Gisele’s exposed ear. Williams looked at him, partially aghast. 

“What? Who would marry this asshole?”

“Hey! Maybe--” said Vega, who then took a huge swig from the bottle he held, then handed it to Williams. “Maybe she doesn’t mind too much.” 

Williams’ jaw tightened as she snatched the bottle and pointed at him around it. “Don’t do it lightly, Vega. This is some serious shit.”

Vega ducked and tilted his head, shooting her a look that broadcasted all kinds of disdain. 

“Come on Williams-- this girl is fucking _everything_ to me,” he said with uncharacteristic gravity. “If she hadn’t said ‘yes’, I’d be sitting on her goddamn doorstep right now begging her to change her mind. I mean it.”

“I’ll fucking drink to that.” Williams’ expression cracked into a smile. 

Jack clanked the bottle she still held against the one Williams held and took another swig. “Me too. Good luck, you stupid bastards.”

Vega closed the distance between him and Williams and kissed the corner of her mouth, staying in close as he spoke. “I _would_ be sitting on your doorstep, you know that right? Drunk as a goddamn skunk and begging like a little bitch.”

“You’re still an asshole,” Williams said with no conviction, grinning into his five-o’clock shadow.

Garrus produced a straw and held it out across the table to Tali, just as Williams offered the bottle in her direction. “I didn’t know about the occasion, but I figured you were going to need this.” Tali stared at him adoringly, mostly playacting. 

“Keelah, Shepard. If you ever get tired of him, send him in my direction.”

“Oh yeah, no chance of that,” Shepard said with a laugh, sitting back and crossing her legs across his lap for effect.. “This is my goddamn turian and I’m keeping him.” 

“It’s true,” said Garrus, lazily dropping a hand on her shin. “She’s far too attached. I’m charming.”

“Freaks,” said Jack as she oozed off of the table and pulled the cards from Liara’s hand, trading it for the bottle. “This was a shitty hand, anyway. Let’s play something more interesting.”

Liara looked at the bottle, down at the oblivious Gisele, then around the room. “I’ll take charge of making sure everyone gets home safely. But first--” _then_ she took a delicate sip that set off a round of cheers as she handed the bottle to Shepard. “Congratulations, you two.”

“It’s about goddamn time,” muttered Shepard before she took a drink from the bottle to rival the one Vega had taken, without even a cough to show for the burning sensation down her throat. “I just want you to remember that I didn’t make any of you wear anything _fluffy_. Remember that, Williams.” 

A round of laughter went up as she passed the bottle to Garrus, who added, ”Congratulations. I look forward to the open bar.” He took a sizeable drink and passed the bottle back to Vega, who had dragged an ottoman over to take a seat next to Williams. Williams in turn tossed her cards at Jack, who was filled with suggestions as to what would be fun to do instead. 

Garrus squeezed Shepard’s ankle to catch her attention, and she grinned at him, flushed from the horrible scotch Vega had found. He leaned over and whispered, “I say we buy them a varren pup,” and Shepard burst out laughing. 

Terrible dance music began drifting out of Jack’s omnitool. Someone handed the bottle back to Shepard and Tali was dragging her to her feet. Another long drink later, it was easy to convince her to dance, something she still did poorly but with great enthusiasm. Jack was loudly arguing that she could indeed throw kitchen knives with accuracy and shoving Williams bodily from her seat to show her where to find them. Vega sat heavily in Shepard’s vacated seat, bottle in one hand, wiping his brow with an exaggerated show of relief. 

“Good job, James,” said Garrus as he patted Vega companionably on the back. “Williams is a hell of a woman.”

“Dunno, man,” Vega said, taking another drink and tipping his head towards where Shepard was trying to do some sort of Latin dance with Tali. Rather, he had to assume that’s what they were trying to do, but there was a lot of laughing over Liara’s hands on Shepard’s hips trying to make them rotate freely. “You and Lola make it look easy.” 

Garrus snorted a laugh and held his hand out for the bottle, which Vega passed him without comment. “I wouldn’t have said _easy_ ,” he said, took a drink, then laughed again as he rubbed the back of his own neck. “The only thing she can’t do is dance. Makes a guy feel--”

“Extraneous,” finished Vega, taking the bottle back. 

“I guess. But I was thinking ‘lucky’.” Vega shot him a look full of confusion, bottle halfway to his mouth as Garrus continued. “I mean, if she doesn’t actually need me for anything, that must mean she wants me around, right? So, she probably wants me around as least as much as I want her around. So everything else is just… static.”

Vega was still staring at him. “Shit,” he declared.

“...That sounds pathetic?” Garrus asked, unable to decode the expression.

“Nah, man. That’s--” breathed Vega. He took a drink, sat back and nodded, staring off in the direction of where Williams trying to stop Jack from biotically sending knives at the back wall. It lost some gravity when she took a drink and declared the biotics ‘cheating’. “That’s deep. I’ll remember that. Gimme something else.”

“Outside of that?” Garrus laughed. “ _That’s_ easy. Don’t steal her pillow, do not ask questions about the contents of her bathroom cabinets, take her on romantic picnics that involve shooting ranges, and do not under any circumstances reveal that she owns a stuffed Blasto.”

Vega howled with laughter, which caught Jack’s attention, and suddenly he too was being dragged into bad ideas involving kitchen knives. Garrus sat back with a contented sigh and the mostly-empty bottle of rotgut and watched Shepard bumping hips with Tali as Liara threw her hands up in exasperation. After a few more minutes of maybe slightly-less-uncoordinated bumping, Shepard pivoted on one foot and locked eyes with him. She smirked, eyes sparkling, and crooked a finger at him, beckoning him to join the madness. 

As usual, he was powerless to resist.


	6. January, 2190

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tiniest tail.

It had taken two years to get the Sol relay up and working. Hackett had tried to convince Shepard to take the Normandy on the first official trip through (after the test pilots), but he’d had no satisfactory answer to “and how long until we can get back?” 

It took six more months to get the Serpent Nebula hub relay up, but it was finally followed within successively fewer months by the Athena Nebula, then the Apien Crest, the Annos Basin, and Aralakh. Most of the Asari, Turians, Salarians, and Krogan previously stranded in Sol breathed a collective sigh of relief and made their way home; some decided to stay near the Citadel and still others found themselves willing to make new homes on Earth. Other races took the opportunity to creep closer to home, and the galaxy’s best engineers and tech specialists went with them to keep working on the smaller, more remote relays.

Several weeks after the Aralakh relay came up, Shepard’s omnitool pinged with a comm request from Hackett. Internally, she cringed, but she answered nonetheless. Hackett was a reminder of all of the worst days past; he was a harbinger of orders that still might go terribly wrong (pun definitely intended). It wasn’t exactly his fault; he just… was not usually good news. Still.

“Admiral, good to hear from you,” she lied.

“‘Ambassador’ looks good on you, Shepard. How are you holding up?” Came the grizzled voice of the Admiral, tiny and orange as he was in her omnitool’s projected screen.

“You know how it is, sir. Can’t crack all the skulls due to diplomatic immunity, so it’s all talk,” she said with the hint of a wry smirk. “Only so far you can take the ‘I told you so’ card.”

“Word is you’re still kicking their asses, Shepard. Don’t underestimate that.”

“I get the feeling this call isn’t all social, sir,” she said, tilting her head at his projection and ready to be done with this talk. “What do you need?” 

“I’m sending the Normandy on a diplomatic envoy to Tuchanka. Williams suggested you might want to know,”

Shepard grinned, never so glad to be wrong about a call. “Sir, I’m claiming Spectre authority to join the mission.”

Hackett guffawed. “No doubt you’ll need your sniper along, Spectre?”

“No doubt at all.”

“We’ll make the necessary arrangements on our end, Shepard, but you get to take it up with Williams-- it’s her ship now.”

###

“Shepard, my friend!” Wrex bellowed, arms out in welcome. Shepard grinned hugely and trotted up to the massive, scarred krogan she was proud to call her friend as well. Something small and wriggly seemed to be perched on his shoulder, clinging to his hump.

“THE BATTLEMASTER AND I HAVE RETURNED!” shouted Grunt as he exited the shuttle, shoved past Garrus and ran to catch up to Shepard. He rammed into the krogan standing at Wrex’ left. “What is this?” he continued, scooping the wriggly thing up off of Wrex and holding it high over his face to examine it. “Is this-- a young one?”

Shepard’s eyes widened and she shot a look at Garrus and mouthed “baby krogans!” silently. He looked away, clearly (to her) trying to stifle a laugh. The creature was fucking adorable-- like a tiny, smoothly rotund amphibian, eyes huge with a little paddle-tail. 

“...Wrex, do you have a tail?” she asked as she stopped inside of Wrex’s reach, signifying her trust in her ability to not incite violence, and gripped his offered forearm. How had she never noticed? Her eyes did not leave Grunt however, who was still holding the baby up but had now begun poking its middle gently. The tiny thing made squealing sounds and Shepard was feeling a mightily un-Shepard-like need to… she didn’t know. Make high-pitched sounds at it or something. Wrex gurgled a deeply amused laugh.

“Anytime you want to see it, Shepard, ditch the bird and we’ll talk.”

“This bird,” said Garrus as he caught up and offered a hand as well. “will put up a fight. From a hundred yards, with a very large caliber rifle.”

“Fucking chicken,” Wrex said, gripping his forearm with one hand and using the other to issue a companionable shove to Garrus’ shoulder that staggered him a step. “You’ve got Shepard snowed though. Won’t be showing her my tail anytime soon, I hear.”

“Nah, I’m good,” said Shepard. “I’ll take your word for it. Thanks though.”

“He does,” came a smooth alto voice attached to the traditionally-veiled Krogan female mounting the crumbling steps from the opposite direction from which Shepard had come. “It’s a nice one.”

“Here we go,” grumbled Wrex as Bakara walked up to Grunt and retrieved the baby. 

“Well done, Grunt. Best to work it out now. We’ve got quite a tangle of mating requests for you specifically.”

Grunt pointed at the baby krogan. “I will make as many of those as I can.”

Shepard snorted a laugh as Wrex shook his head.

“It’s all fun and games until you forget who you’re with,” Wrex said. Garrus could only gape as he added, “What? I’ve been young.”

“And now, he always knows,” Bakara said, leaving a subtle threat hanging over it as she half-hugged Shepard, who was duly impressed until the baby krogan was being thrust upon her. “Here.”

Shepard awkwardly held the baby up much as Grunt had, staring at its round speckled belly. She felt as though she should say something snide; something edgy and sarcastic. Instead she was mildly horrified to discover herself saying, “Oh. My. God. Look at this tubby belly!” It cooed at her and she was lost, delighted as if she had been dropped on a planet entirely inhabited by puppies. She beamed and pulled it in closer forgetting for a minute that she was supposed to be the toughest goddamn marine in the galaxy; it took a swipe at her hair and she straight giggled. 

_Giggled._

Wrex absolutely doubled over with laughter, deep and bellowing. 

“You are so fucked, Chicken. On the bright side I can get you a handful of those for cheap.”

“No, you can’t,” Bakara said from where she stood, though her bright eyes sparkled. “You _can_ borrow that one for a little while though, Shepard.” The baby krogan burbled and poked at her dogtags. 

The little thing resettled against her chest, and Shepard shrugged, letting it happily gnaw on her tags. She looked up just in time to catch Garrus watching her intently, and her skin flushed hot-- probably not the most appropriate response to any of this. She flashed him a smile and returned her attention to Wrex. 

“Looks like things are going alright?”

“Clans are busy rebuilding for once,” Wrex said with a nod. “I guess when your race helps save the galaxy and is suddenly not going extinct anymore, it seems like a better plan than killing each other.” He shrugged. “We’re a lot better at breaking shit and killing each other, though. It’s going slow.”

“Fair enough,” Shepard said as the baby released her tags and made a very serious face. “I get it. These cute little guys need--”

No one heard what they needed over the baby krogan’s loud, productive belch. A large splot of stank, greenish goo splattered her armor and she grimaced emphatically. 

“What the hell do you feed them?” she said, trying to make her grimace of disgust funny for the infant’s sake, though it was indeed truly nauseating. Wrex was laughing again, but to be fair, he wasn’t the only one. 

“It doesn’t seem to matter,” said Bakara handing Shepard a rag while trying to take the baby off of her hands. “It all ends up smelling like that, regardless of what end it comes back from.”

Shepard took the proffered bit of towel but the baby was still hanging on to her tags and her hair, and made a sound of distress that wormed its way into her good graces. “It’s um. It’s ok,” she said, making an attempt to wipe off the worst of the goo with just the one free hand. “He’s alright.”

“She,” corrected Bakara, who stopped trying to retrieve the baby, and was peering at her with amusement. “We named her Shepard.”

Shepard barked a laugh and without a second thought, bumped the little krogan gently, forehead to forehead. “Sounds about right. Give ‘em hell, kid.”

“We will definitely take ten just like her,” offered Garrus under his breath from his spot beside Wrex. He was still watching her intently, and she didn’t miss a grinning Wrex elbowing him. Hard.


	7. July, 2190

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staying on your toes.

There was something to be said, Shepard thought, for the tired trope of being physically sheltered by a large wall of man, all overdeveloped sense of duty and overactive protective instincts. As adorable as it was annoying most of the time, it was pretty fucking useful right about now.

Garrus was generally good about remembering that she was a goddamn killing machine, and he tried to keep his concerns down to a dull roar, voiced only when she wasn’t well-armed, armored and without said wall of man somewhere at her proverbial six, dropping any threats she didn’t with well-timed headshots. She appreciated the restraint. 

So it was not the same thing at all as say, crouching behind this man-wall in a pair of pajama pants, a thin t-shirt and a well-worn N7 hoodie, with a toddler curled against her chest. Specifically, one who managed to somehow stay asleep through the cacophony of the giant reinforced glass that served as their living area window imploding spectacularly.

“Shepard,” Garrus hissed out. “You’ve got to get her out of here.” 

“We have no idea what’s out there,” she hissed back. “We need weapons.” Her biotics alone might keep all three of them in one piece for a little while, but anyone who was coming after them would have known that. And planned for it.

“We cannot shoot this one out,” he said, risking a glance back at her. His eyes caught hers and then dropped to the wildly tousled brunette head resting on her chest. An impossibly small, pudgy hand was tangled in the ties of Shepard’s hoodie and rested just above her heart.

“We might have to,” Shepard insisted. “I’m not fucking leaving you alone to deal with it, and you can’t just let us walk out there as though we’re taking a field trip to the Presidium when chances are someone’s waiting for us out there. And you know it.”

He loosed a low rumble of unintelligible curses, but it was fairly obvious he’d come to the same conclusion. “I don’t like it,” he added as he returned his gaze back across the darkened room, scanning for movement and finding none. 

“Likewise, big guy,” Shepard said through clenched teeth. “Seeing anything yet?”

“Not a damn thing,” he answered. “Why would you go through the trouble of catching someone by surprise and then give them the time to mount a counteroffensive?”

“...or for that matter fuck with the Shepard-Vakarian household to begin with? That’s a total lack of self-preservation in and of itself.”

That got a laugh. It was more of a snort-chuckle guffaw, but Shepard would take it. She smirked almost as if she meant it and took the opening. 

“Listen,” she said. “If we can get to the bedroom, we can get to the locker and the comms. We’ll arm up and call for backup, and wait there.”

“If there’s nothing out there waiting for us to move,” he said, slowly scanning the perimeter again.

“If there’s nothing out there waiting for us to move,” she echoed, leaving unsaid the fact that they really had few options, and the longer they remained in one place, the better the chances of someone deciding to move on them first. “It’s a better position.”

“Alright,” Garrus conceded. “Put her between us. I’ll take the window side.”

Shepard bit back the ‘like hell’ that was on the tip of her tongue; he made a better meat shield than she did right now, it was true. And god, it pissed her off that they had finally stopped wearing their omnitools at all times. 

“Good,” she said, peering into the dim apartment. “Go.”

It didn’t take any other verbal coordination. As one, they rose into a low, moving crouch, Garrus’ arm reaching back to connect with Shepard’s elbow and form an imperfect guard around the tiny girl. They made it five feet and no shots rang out; no explosions or biotic blasts; ten feet, then fifteen and then they were at the bedroom doorway, cautiously stepping through. Shepard went straight for the locker next to the closet as Garrus went for his visor and their omnitools where they were piled together on the side table. A quick print check and she was in, retrieving and tucking a heavy pistol into the back of her pants and immediately reaching for another. Without ever taking his eyes off of the door entirely, Garrus was back at her side and attaching Shepard’s omnitool carefully to the wrist supporting the little girl, who snorted and shifted, and scrabbled at Shepard’s hoodie, but did not wake. She handed him the second pistol as he settled between them and the door, then shifted the baby onto her off-hand shoulder and opened a comm channel to C-Sec.

“This is Shepard. We’ve had an incursion and need backup ASAP. Window’s been blasted in but no sign of intruders as of yet. Yeah, we’ve got a minor civilian here, so the sooner the fucking better. Thanks.” She ended the link and immediately opened a second. “Miranda, it’s Shepard. Get back here, now.”

At the word “Miranda”, the little girl’s head popped up. She squalled, “Mamaaaaa,” and began to glow.

“...Shepard,” said Garrus. “Is she--?”

A second blast centered around the toddler who was now brightly haloed with the unmistakable glow of a strong biotic, sending Garrus backwards flat against the closet, and Shepard sprawling onto the ground with an ‘oof’. The alarmed toddler floated in a nimbus of crackling static electricity for another moment, then floated slowly downwards until she was resting on the dumbfounded and slightly dazed Shepard’s chest again. All Shepard could do was pat her back and try the “shush”. The little girl hiccuped and relaxed into her, tired eyes shutting again of their own volition as she burrowed against Shepard, murmuring, “Mama.”

“Garrus,” she whispered hoarsely after a minute. “Are you--”

“Fine,” he said, pushing himself upright again with a shake. “I’ve been thrown by bigger biotics than her. You?”

“Pfft,” Shepard said, fine physically except for the gun digging into the small of her back. “I’ve just… never seen anyone this young do... that.” 

“To be fair, how many biotics this young have you seen at all?” He asked, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. 

“Point,” Shepard conceded. “I uh. Am pretty sure there’s no one out there trying to take us out.”

“I’d have to agree with that assessment, Commander,” Garrus said with a shift of his plates that was the equivalent of a raised eyebrow. He turned his head in a slow circle, obviously scanning the area. “There’s a C-Sec shuttle approaching, but no one else that I can detect within a fifty meters.”

Shepard let out a huge, slow breath and let her head fall back onto the carpet. Garrus crouched next to her shoulder and ran a hand down the now-snoring little girl’s back, though he was still watching the door. Shepard smiled. There was definitely something to be said for being able to trust that he had the door under control while she stared aimlessly at the smooth ceiling and contemplated moving again. After a long moment, the sounds of a shuttle hovering and armored boots hitting the balcony were followed by voices raised with declarations of “C-Sec!”

“In here!” shouted Garrus. Baby girl didn’t even register the sound this time. Officers came around the partially closed door with weapons half-raised scanning for danger. 

“Shepard, Vakarian-- what happened here?”

A second shuttle was suddenly hovering near the first and Miranda all but charged out of it, dressed in a scandalously low-cut evening gown and aglow with her own biotics, clearly ready for battle. 

“Eleanor!” she shouted, her boots crunching glass as she strode in the direction of the C-Sec officers. “Shepard! Vakarian!”

All of the officers’ weapons were immediately trained on her, and just as quickly went flying out of their hands. 

“Eleanor!” she called again, her voice beginning to take on a dangerous, desperate tone. 

“Here!” said Garrus, just as Shepard called, “Stand down!” for the officers’ benefit.

An officer scrambled out of the doorway to make room for Miranda and her own biotic nimbus as she blew past him, focused on the prone Shepard.

“Oh god,” Miranda breathed. “Shepard--” 

“We’re alright,” Shepard assured her. “She’s sleeping.”

Miranda’s brow furrowed and she did not cease her forward motion until she was crouching next to Garrus and gathering the toddler to see for herself, in the manner of mothers everywhere. “What the hell happened here?” 

Eleanor shifted in her arms to burrow more effectively onto Miranda’s chest with a happy sigh, and Shepard sat up. 

“Your kid packs a hell of a punch, is what.” 

Miranda furrowed her brow. 

“We all fell asleep watching vids out on the couch,” supplied Garrus as he stood and offered Shepard a hand up, who surprisingly enough, took it. Once standing, she turned to the locker and gingerly removed and replaced the pistol that she’d landed on. “Next thing we knew, the window was shattering and we thought we were under attack.” He made eye contact with the C-Sec officer edging closer. “Shepard grabbed Eleanor, and we got her safely in here to call for backup. And then she knocked us both on our ass.” Both Miranda and the C-Sec officer were now staring in disbelief; Miranda at Garrus, and the officer at the baby girl, sleeping peacefully.

“She is so strong, Miranda,” said Shepard. “Tell me you knew.”

Miranda’s mouth opened and shut once, twice, then she pursed her lips together. Then she laughed. “I had… no idea.”

“We’ll, uh. Sweep the perimeter just to be certain,” offered the officer. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” said Shepard, and the officer disappeared as quickly as he could.

“I’m so sorry, both of you,” Miranda said, though her eyes were locked on the sleeping Eleanor, expression broadcasting pride and utter devotion. “I suppose it’s fortunate she has family who can handle unexpected biotic attack.”

Shepard snorted indelicately and leaned on Garrus, who put an arm around her casually. If you’d told her five years ago that Miranda would be calling her ‘family’, it would have sounded as batshit as Cerberus bring her back from the dead. Implausible, but apparently a thing.

“Years of combat experience had to pay off somehow,” Shepard said with a handwave. “I’m sorry your date went south.”

It was Miranda’s turn to make a disgusted noise. “Ugh, Shepard you have no idea. I don’t even know what possessed me. This was probably the best way it could have ended.”

Garrus opened his mouth, thought better of his comment and instead offered a disingenuous smile. “Glad to be of service?” Miranda narrowed her eyes but he was saved by C-Sec.

“All clear,” said an officer from the doorway. “I’m going to post an officer out on the deck to watch over the place until morning, when we can review security footage and you can get someone out to get a replacement going. You folks have somewhere to go? Err, Commander-- err, Ambassador, and uh, Captain?“ Addressing Shepard and Garrus in one sentence had become even more awkward as they kept being bribed and bullied by the Council to not retire entirely.

“Would you like the use of my guest room?” Miranda offered. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll of course cover the window.”

Garrus waved it off, but Shepard smiled. “Damn right you will. But yes-- give us a few to get organized.”

Miranda smiled, a rare, fully unguarded grin as she reached out to squeeze Shepard’s forearm briefly. “I’ll go ahead, then. Thanks. Really.” She turned on her heel and carried the sleeping Eleanor back to her car.

The C-Sec officer nodded. “I’d appreciate it if one or both of you could come in tomorrow and just give a formal statement.”

“Will do,” Garrus assured him. “Thanks.” The officer nodded and let himself out.

Shepard’s shoulder shook slightly. Garrus nuzzled her temple and exhaled, and she finally let out the laugh that she’d been holding in. Then they were both laughing, and it took a while to be able to speak. 

“She is absolutely screwed,” Garrus said between chortles of laughter.

“Oh my god,” Shepard laughed, covering her eyes with one hand. 

“Spirits, and then there’s Jack,” Garrus added, and they were laughing again. 

“I can’t,” Shepard wheezed. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed, loosing one more chuckle as he tried to get it together. She sighed, too and leaned in.

“...you still want ten of those little monsters of your own, don’t you?” she asked with a tentative half-smile, not even sure of what she wanted to hear.

“Yeah,” he said, abashed. “Maybe not ten. I mean, the cost of amps alone--” She smacked him on the shoulder. 

“I figured,” she said, and felt him droop a little against her. 

“Maybe not ten, anyway,” he repeated, shifting into the awkward, unsure territory he very rarely visited anymore. “It’s amusing and all, but you were heavily drugged when you agreed to that, as I recall, and--”

“Hey,” she said, cutting him off by sliding a hand up his neck and under his fringe, tugging down until he was looking at her. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, ok? After we get some sleep. Or the equivalent.” 

That was a response she’d never given him before. It had always been ‘not now, not yet’ backed by ‘what if I kill them accidentally?’ and ‘where would we even get one?’ and ‘I don’t know if I’m cut out for that’. Shepard was still thinking those things, but she had also been thinking lately that maybe it could be alright; maybe it was something she could figure out… that maybe it was something she wanted to figure out now. And then there was Gisele and her tiny blue pug nose and her precocious use of the word ‘primitive’, and her little krogan Shepard with the pet varren she used for a mount, and Eleanor and her damnable, pudgy, chocolate-smeared fingers and baby biotics for godsake. Maybe she was just getting old.

“Yeah?” The oddest little hopeful smile crept onto his face.

“Yeah,” she said, the words sort of tumbling out of their own accord. “I think we should figure it out.” His smile began to widen, mandibles flaring as he bumped her face with his. 

“Yeah?” He asked again, his hands creeping up her torso.

“Don’t be smug,” she said, pulling him in for a long, slow kiss. “Tomorrow.”


	8. The Payoff: October, 2191

Garrus carefully cradled a tiny human child, perfect in every way down to the shock of red hair on the top of her head, who was milkdrunk and sleeping wrapped in a blanket embroidered in patterns of traditional Quarian threadwork. He stared at her soft skin, her flattened nose, the eyebrows whose angles were the tiniest mirror of Shepard’s, the delicate miniaturized fingers he tucked back into the blanket and the ears that were perfect little shells, and he was dumbfounded. This creature was thoroughly his child, despite a lack of a crest or plates or talons, and he was stupidly in love with her, almost as much as he was with her mother, who was deservedly passed out nearby. 

He spent the better part of an hour aimlessly wandering the room and staring at her, trilling soothing subharmonics while he marveled at the creature in his arms. Suddenly her eyes were blinking open, the deep gray of stormclouds taking in his face without fear, comforted by the sounds that were so familiar to her. He smiled --spirits, had he even stopped?-- and leaned in to brush his cheek gently across her forehead.

“One down,” he murmured at her, and her nose wrinkled-- a gesture that turned into a yawn, and his heart nearly burst. 

“I’ve adjusted my estimate, Vakarian,” came Shepard’s exhausted voice from the pile of blankets behind him. “There are definitely not going to be nine more of those.”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of compromise, Shepard,” he said, still grinning madly. 

Shepard shifted to one side and half-buried her face against a pillow. “I will buy the rest for you on the black market before I do that again.” Garrus wandered over and handed the infant back to Shepard, who looked surprised as she took her. 

“I don’t know,” he said, hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again, but he was so busy staring at them, it wasn’t nearly as smooth as he’d planned. “I mean, I’ll take them, but, damn. You did some good work. Just look at her.”

“Sure, but. Who put us in charge of her?” She tucked the baby girl into the crook of her elbow effortlessly, as though she’d been doing it for years. Her movements were competent and sure despite the uncertainty she was in the midst of expressing. “She’s so tiny. What if we break her? Or forget her somewhere? What if--” Shepard tilted her head, opened and closed her mouth, but didn’t say anything more. She didn’t even have to finish the thought; Garrus could read it on her face. 

What if they couldn’t protect her? It was the vulnerability Shepard had feared more than anything, he thought. He couldn’t blame her. 

“Shepard,” he said, crouching at her side at eye level and sliding a hand up into her hair. “If we can’t keep this girl safe, no one can.” She had the decency to huff a laugh.

“You still can’t have nine more.”

“Honestly?” he said, lowering his forehead to hers. “I’m so good with what I have.”

Somewhere across the room, Miranda who had gone unnoticed, quietly backed away from the doorway until she bumped into Jack, who was carrying Eleanor on her shoulders. “Let’s give them a minute--” she started, but Eleanor had other ideas.

“Wake up, fuckers!” the tiny brunette shouted, using Jack's topknot as a handhold. “I want to see your baby!”

Jack had never run so fast in her life.


End file.
